Forelsket

[Chicogal]

Denmark helped as well, silent as she was. He was feeling the same sort of solemness now that Sweden had arrived. His expression had been all that Denmark needed to be reminded that they did not really want to be here. But it was his boss' decision, not his own... And so, he would make the best of it. That was what he did. That was all he could do.

Clearing his throat, he followed the shorter woman through to the dining room, where Sweden was already seated. He forced his lips into a smile; that was his default state, wasn't it? Happy. The blond would pretend he was so, even if he wasn't really.

"Sverige, this was most skilfully prepared by Norge and myself. You'd better like it," he teased, raising his eyebrows at the bespectacled man across the table. Sweden simply stared back for a moment before looking down and raising the stew to his mouth. He swallowed, made no expression, then continued eating.

Denmark glanced to Norway, smile fading before he picked up his own spoon. He ladled it into his mouth - mmm, that was actually quite good. Chewing thoughtfully, he relaxed back into his chair. And there was silence.

It was sort of unnerving.

[Chicogal]

((bump))

[Chicogal]

bump

[Lady_Lunevis]

OOPS IM SORRY okay i'm alive omg i'm so sorry the dreaded finals draws closer like why omf

 

Norway noticed Denmark's face fall--well, what did he expect? None of the countries were happy about this union, yet their bosses eagerly expanded their own goals without a second thought for the countries under their control.

Then again, it wasn't as if there was much to work with in the first place. She could think all she wanted on what they deserved as personalized countries, yet human rights only extended to humans.

She stirred her spoon through the soup, idly picking at the small slices of fish and carrots that floated about. With a quick glance at Denmark and Sweden, Norway noticed that both countries were eating with vigor--only, it was so solemn.

She remembers a time when they would eat together happily, drink ale and chatter with the roar of their armies behind them. Now . . .

This.

She takes a small sip--well, it wasn't bad, of course, but with a self-satisfied smirk she allowed herself the vanity of complimented herself on a job well done. And, well, Denmark as well, as admittedly he had helped despite a few minor mishaps.

"It's not quite as bad as I imagined," she complimented idly when she noticed Denmark's face call from the intensity of Sweden's glare. The female country gave the Swede a wary glance--it was no use making enemies when they would be living here for the foreseeable future.

[Chicogal]

((I'm busy with exams too I finish tomorrow though

fufu why is there a pizza advert at the bottom of the page now i want pizza mmm

also: your sig makes me think of what Norway looks like; and it's so pretty!))

 

Denmark quietly ate his stew, glancing up at his two guests every now and then. They were all so quiet. It hadn't been like this since - well - they had first met. Norway eventually broke the silence coating the room, and he looked up from chasing a particularly large piece of fish. He watched as her cobalt eyes went to Sweden in a warning glance. Were they nervous of him being the one in charge here?

He forced a smile onto his lips, as he was so skilled at doing, and uttered a short laugh at her sentiment. "Ja, I am an alright cook, no?" he said, eyes lining like crow's feet at the corners. "Ah, but something is missing from this meal..." The tall blonde stood up and held up his hands. "...beer! I'll bring some through," he declared, turning around to march back into the kitchen. Honestly, he felt a bit more comfortable with a beer to drink. And how could anyone be unhappy with a tankard in their hand? He grabbed three of the large mugs, filled them to the brim from a barrel, and carried them to the dining room again.

"There!" he declared, plopping back down into his seat. Hoping this would break the awkwardness somewhat, he took up his tankard and started to drink.

[Lady_Lunevis]

ahh lucky!! mine are next week [ horrified screaming ]

i'm laughing omg no don't even mention pizza i want pizza so badly

ohh thank you!! <333 i like how peaceful it looks ; 77 ; and yeah tbh it could represent norway!!

 

Norway continued to send passive-aggressive glares towards Sweden until the male country bowed his head and muttered a small "ye" to pacify the female country. Norway hesitated--she hoped Denmark didn't take anything the wrong way, but truth be told both countries were wary of being completely controlled by another.

She looked up to see him smile--well, things were okay now, right?

. . . Right?

His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Before she could think of anything to say, he suddenly jumped up and gave a loud speech on beer. Raising her hand to protest, she was unable to stop the speed of Denmark as he rushed into the kitchen, handled three jugs with ease, and plonked them down on the dinner table before the two stunned countries.

"I can't believe this," Norway muttered. "Stew and beer . . ."

She watched as Denmark began to chug down his tankard. "Don't choke," she scoffed, rather bitter that he seemed to think a jug of beer was better company than anyone else on the planet. Then again, it wasn't as if he was wrong . . .

Norway looked around. Denmark was still drinking heavily, and Sweden was beginning to match Denmark's gusto as the tall blond raised his tankard and drowned it whole as if getting drunk could make everything seem less real.

Norway sighed. Well, three's a crowd, right?

She raised her own tankard and took a sip. Grimacing as the beer hit her tongue--it'd been a while--she wondered how Denmark did this all the time.

She set her tankard down, stirring her soup. Unbidden, Denmark's sky-blue eyes appeared in her mind, the feeling of his hand against her cheek . . .

Norway grabbed the tankard and took a large, long swallow.

[Chicogal]

Denmark set down his empty tankard, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve - it was a habit. He raised his eyebrows at her, smile more real now - beer made him happy, if anything. "Do not worry. I am a fish of beer," he declared, thumping his chest with a fist. He drank like one, anyway.

His bright eyes darted down to his meal, which he started to eat again. In fact, there wasn't much left of it - and so, Denmark was finished. He leaned back in his seat, quite satisfied as his eyes drifted to Norway. What had that been back there? The gesture of family, or of a lover? The blond could not tell, and it irked him slightly. But he was not one to dwell on such things for too long - alcohol took these thoughts away usually...

"Another tankard, then?" he asked the table, ready to stand again.

 

((UGH I'm sorry :c))

[Lady_Lunevis]

omg ahh no worries!! ; v ; i just finished finals so im like im free and i have entirely too much time to rp now LOL ))

 

If she had been more sober, Norway would've said something about Denmark's table manners. However, the pale blonde was more focused on forgetting what it felt like to have the male's hand against hers--thus, Norway did naught but raise the tankard for another swallow.

She scoffed as the other smiled at her, quickly darting her own gaze away. He spoke--something about being a fish of beer? The thought is so ridiculous that she couldn't help but laugh. Denmark . . . he was always so foolish.

Which was why she wasn't sure how to take the moment they had together earlier. Was he joking? Norway was well aware that Denmark had been with his fair share of women and men alike, and that the blond seemed to flutter about with his interests. For someone like Norway, who almost never takes lovers--apart from a few blazing flames she wants to forget because they were all mortal--they were like fire and ice. Norway didn't want to fall for Denmark only for the blond to see this as a one-time thing--her feelings were intense and deep-rooted, just like the fjords so common in Nordic land, and Norway knew that she could not afford to be hurt.

"How much do you drink?" she muttered under her breath, pushing herself from her seat as well. Norway almost swayed--hm, it was strange that her senses seemed to be working slower than usual, but then again she knew she was always a lightweight--and made her way over to Denmark.

"Where do you keep it? The beer, I mean." She's almost positive getting another tankard isn't a good idea, and thankfully she still has most her common sense about. She plucks his empty bowl from the table, giving him a raised eyebrow. "Another?"

[Chicogal]

((I'm going to a camp tomorrow, and won't be back until Friday. Probably. Unless I crap-post from my phone.))

 

Denmark liked to see Norway laugh. It wasn't an entirely amused laugh - more derisive than happy - but it was a laugh nonetheless. He heard her mutter, but ignored the jab. He could drink however much he liked! He was Denmark, conqueror of the seas, women and beer. But he withheld the sentiment; she'd heard of these facts many times before. No point in boring her...

He grinned at her question. "I have no limits for beer," he declared, seizing up his tankard and chuckling. "There is never too little space for another tankard!" The blond nodded to her before turning around and marching back to the kitchen. Darting into the pantry, he filled up his tankard with more sweet, sweet beer... There were a couple of barrels in there. Once a week, the local brewer delivered to him, and took away the empty barrels. It was a system that he rather enjoyed.

Hmm... Norway didn't seem to approve of his drinking habits though. Shrugging to himself, he took a sip and wandered back into the kitchen.

 

((UGH I'm sorry muse has gone running off someplace))

Edited June 27, 2015 by Chicogal

[Lady_Lunevis]

eyy no worries!! have fun at camp : ^ ) ))

 

Norway dumped the bowls unceremoniously in the sink; she'd deal with them later--or force Denmark to. She watched as he staggered out the kitchen, wandering down the hallway to some unknown corridor only to return with a tankard filled to the brim with beer. She made a disgusted face, moving away as he continued to drink.

Gods . . . Where had Denmark gone? Her memories were a confusing mix of fond memories and simple astonishment at his actions. The Denmark who had been with her while cooking earlier seemed completely different from this fun-loving stranger, who seemed to think little of emotions others.

She looked at Denmark, wondering as she watched him laugh to himself; studying his features, from the narrow tilt from the bridge of his nose to his lips, full and kiss-swollen, and his bright blue eyes . . .

How many masks do you wear? She silently asked, face passive as ever. Am I another person you have to hide from?

[Chicogal]

Denmark became bleakly aware of his being stared at. Taking the tankard away from his lips, he glanced down to see the ever blank Norway staring at him. It wasn't an absentminded stare though; there was emotion behind those deep blue eyes. She was angry, or annoyed, or exasperated- something that wasn't right. Something that he couldn't read at that moment in time, in his state. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, two finely arched caterpillars that crinkled his forehead.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked, gesturing with his tankard toward her. Some beer slopped out over the sides. He looked at the mug for a second before sniggering, shaking his head at himself. Already his thoughts had moved on from her expression, the feeling behind those eyes slipping away like waves upon the sand.

[Lady_Lunevis]

Norway quickly drew back in disgust--why?

She had been studying his face, the careful curve of his nose, the strong jawline that echoed his muscled neck and shoulders. Light blue eyes, like the boundless sky on a perfect day . . .

Until beer had been promptly slopped over the sides of a tankard to almost land on her dress. Pulling back, Norway barely managed to save her dress from being ruined completely, though the beer still splashed onto her sleeve in the process. Good gods, she'd have to have that washed later, and she hated bothering the maids with such petty issues . . .

Is this the true you?

"You're an embarrassment," she said, feeling all her flustered feelings conjure up into a ball of hate. The atmosphere in the fell quickly, and with horrified clarity Norway suddenly realised that she had just condemned the one country she was completely at mercy of.

A chair scraped on the floor as Norway pushed herself up and ushered herself from the room without speaking another word.

[Chicogal]

Denmark recoiled slightly, his tankard now encircled by two of his large hands. He blinked - once, twice - glancing down at the golden liquid. Feeling slightly indignant, he shrugged to himself and downed the rest. However, he hesitated before putting the container on the side. Maybe that was enough.

Norway was spinning through his mind. How dare she say such a thing? He was Denmark, leader of Scandinavia! He was the strongest, the best of the best. Leaning against the sideboard, he gave his head a shake. She was only a stupid woman, no better than any other wench in his village. Had no idea what she was talking about.

But...

Her face. Her pale eyebrows, raised in disbelief as he had slopped like some drunkard. The way her pink lips had opened ever so slightly, before seethingly delivering a line that actually hurt. Her pale complexion making her look like a delicate snowflake, that was melting under his ever-changing, ever-volatile heat. That expression was not one that should be present on such a face.

He huffed to himself, angry about his own emotions. They were wrong - he was the leader! She would not sway him with her womanly wiles, her witchcraft. Denmark took his tankard again, filling it again. And again. Until Denmark was no more, and he was the drunkard he'd thought of earlier, passed out across his bed.

 

((You can skip to morning if you'd like?))

Edited July 10, 2015 by Chicogal

[Lady_Lunevis]

(( o dang your writing is so nice how <333 and okay, sounds good!! ))

 

If she woke up with a headache despite the small amounts of alcohol she'd consumed the previous day, Norway could only imagine what Denmark would be going through.

Until the female promptly reminded herself not to care for the other country--no, of course not. He was the same as all of his men--drunkards, wasting their lives away on the streets with nothing but a tankard in hand.

What happened to you?

She tells herself that she is not concerned, that there is no way they could possibly hope to remain 'friends' after the events of yesterday, but . . .

His eyes.

How could she bear to think of them? The Denmark that had been her friend from childhood, who had always taken care of her, the battles and victories they'd gone through together, before this weight of kingdoms and morals had brought the two great countries to their knees under the pressure of various kings and queens.

And now . . . who had he become?

Do I even know you anymore?

Lost in her thoughts, Norway slipped from the grand doors of her room to slowly make her way down the empty halls--it was early in the morning, and dawn was just beginning to set over the skies. She always liked to wake early, before the stress of the day got to her and she would have to once again slip into a facade.

Making her way through the halls, Norway winces at how loud her careful footsteps sound in the silence. Where should she go?

She wonders if Denmark has a balcony. A place where she can stand and regard his wondrous lands, without the burden of alliances or kings and queens to be forged. With that thought in mind, Norway sets about finding her dreamland.

[Chicogal]

((I'm just trying to match up with you, your descriptions are amazing ))

 

Denmark awoke at the sound of footsteps down the hall. It was not so much that he was a light sleeper - more the fact that he had lived alone for so long, footsteps tended to mean an intruder. For a moment, he ignored his head pain, and prepared himself to defend against an attacker - but his mind caught up with him. He had guests.

Relaxing, the headache hit him in full swing. He groaned, flopping back amongst his tangled bedding that held warmth. But he would not go back to sleep now that he had awoken, and the Dane didn't take much notice of the cold anyway, what with it being his natural habitat. Once or twice, he'd been drunk and run about in the midst of winter without a shirt on.

Having made up his mind, he rose again and stood up from the edge of his bed. He sighed, stretching his long arms above his head, his back clicking. His pajama pants hung loosely on his slim hips, and his top - oh. It seemed he had forgotten to change that, in his state last night. Oh well. One less thing to change later. The blonde wandered out of his bedroom, glancing down the hallway to see one of his guests wandering about.

"Norge! Good morning!" he called down to her, strolling in her direction. She was like a fairy or something - an ethereal creature from the stories that were so common in her lands. His country did not have so many brilliant creatures as hers did. Norway always seemed to waft about; there was something so different about her. Where he was brash and loud, she was quiet and collected. Where he made his presence known, she slipped in behind the noise and fuss.

Raising a hand, he ran his hand through his wild blonde hair, a small smile playing on his lips. She couldn't be angry about last night... That was him, and she knew that, didn't she? It was him, Denmark, getting himself drunk and everything. Or, at least, he told himself this.

Edited July 14, 2015 by Chicogal

[Lady_Lunevis]

omg sheds real tears thank you friend ; o ; <333 same to you!! ))

 

"Norge! Good morning!"

The call was like a sudden intrusion on what seemed like an otherwise ethereal, breathtaking morning, and Norway spun around quickly, instantly on guard. A breeze fluttered through her hair, stirring the loose, pale blonde locks, and the peaceful expression that had slowly made its way across her features only moments before disappeared to her classic scowl.

She knew that voice.

She had . . . loved that voice once. When they were friends, allies, comrades.

And lovers?

Never.

Norway spins into the grinning face of Denmark, the Dane with his classic grin and lovely blue eyes as per usual.

Only . . .

She remembers last night.

Her eyes flicker down to his clothing, and . . .

Did he even bother to change?

What a mess.

"Good morning," she replies, voice stiff. Then, realising she was obligated to keep polite, added on a "sleep well?".

Polite didn't mean kind, and Norway had no intentions of letting down her defenses.

You've . . .

Changed.

It's as if the beautiful ocean that used to surround her entire world is now a deadly wave, pushing at her, drowning her.

[Chicogal]

((I'ma go cry from your beautiful writing omg ;__)

 

Denmark yawned, a hand covering his mouth as she spoke to him. But something was different, and as his hand drifted back to rest on his hip, he looked at her. Just looked, smile faded and blue eyes searching. She was closed off to him; so different from last night, by the fire and the food. Her striking eyes were cold and her pose was stiff.

"As well as one can after such quantities of beer," he admitted after a moment. Guilt pervaded his conscience - perhaps he should not have drunk so much in company.

But he was used to being alone now.

Being alone was so much simpler than being with people.

Not that he didn't love people; he was an extrovert. He thrived off the energy of others. But humans were so delicate, so short-lived and tiny. Too many times had he hurt a man with a well-meaned slap on the back, too many times had he bruised a lover in carelessness. What were humans to him?

He ran a hand through his gravity defying blondeness again - it was a habit of his, whenever he felt uncomfortable. Not many people picked up on his nervousness though. The Dane was good at hiding it, and he simply smiled widely again, a short laugh at himself escaping.

"And yourself? I hope your first night in Denmark was pleasant."

[Lady_Lunevis]

omg no friend do not cry at my smol birb writing i am in fear of your great writing ; u ; ))

 

Perhaps she was being unfair, but it was really the smallest things that were bothering her lately. Norway tsk-ed internally when Denmark seemed to yawn at her speaking--though, she would give him points for being polite by covering his mouth--was she really boring him so?

She hesitated, dark blue eyes flickering as Denmark's smile suddenly fell and he seemed to stare intently at her, a brief, passing moment of--understanding?

But then it was gone, and he was speaking once again. Norway had to shake herself into understanding his words, so far lost in the trance of the early morning day was she.

"Such quantities of beer," she repeated, words so carefully placed and tone so carefully polite it could be mistaken for mockery--and wasn't it a game they all played? Masks set up to prevent the other from knowing, a game of lords and ladies wherein the end, no one would triumph but the passage of time.

But what if they were time themselves . . . ?

Then, are they eternally fated to suffer a life of falseness . . . ?

"The normal human man wouldn't stand a chance." How mighty you are, great Dane.

She watched as he ran a hand through his hair--really, why was he always doing that? Bad habit? A flicker of annoyance washed over her at such menial actions.

"It was as one would expect," she replied vaguely, intending to keep him as distant as possible. "Your food was certainly high in quality."

Much more than what my people can afford.

And so, is she self sacrificing for the people of Norway?

She can't think of a sadder way to live a life.

[Chicogal]

(('smol birb'? ))

 

Denmark blinked at her statement. Outwardly, he behaved as if such quips rolled off him as water off a duck's back. And most of the time, they did so inwardly as well. But Norway was different. Was it that he wanted her approval, somewhere deep down? Did he care what she thought about him?

Mouth quirking upward at the corner, he put his hands on his hips - an expression of confidence, bravado. "I am no normal man, of course," he declared, amusement lighting up his tone. It was true; but he was not as gleeful about it as his actions suggested. How he wished he could be a normal man, with a normal lifespan and a normal life. How he craved the promise of time taking its toll and mortality hanging over his head. How Denmark wished for these things - these normal things.

There was something underlying her compliments of his food. There always was a hidden meaning when it came to Norway. She was skilled at doing so, hiding things like the magic of her lands did.

"Danish food is always of good quality," he said, gleefulness somewhat fading as he crossed his arms. The blonde shifted his weight to one foot, glancing down the hallway to break eye contact. He didn't like discomfort when it came to people. Perhaps a beer was in order...

"Are you ready for breakfast?'

[Lady_Lunevis]

((100% smol birb))

 

No normal man, indeed. The days had changed from the times when a noble man was one who could drown a tankard of beer in a matter of minutes, when the ideal man was always with axe in hand, sailing the seas with seawater, salted air rushing through his hair and honour on his mind.

Back then, Denmark had been, truly, the perfect picturesque man.

And now . . . ?

Things have become . . . more domestic. Now, the men dress in fancy capes more for decoration than warmth. They travel on ships with destination in mind, their sense of adventure defeated by the need for a place in society.

Where did this leave a would-be viking, a once glorified leader?

Not a normal man, indeed. But a wanted man?

Those ocean blue eyes could pull any woman off the streets, and Norway is suddenly filled with a stinging pain in her chest she can't quite explain.

She watched as his posture changed to one of carefully guarded words, and she wondered--since when was he so cautious? The Denmark of the past rushed into battle without a written word down, without a tombstone prepared. And now . . .

His eyes glaze, shifting past her to another view down the hallway. Am I truly so insignificant?

Something stings.

At his question, she nods carefully--once, a simple dip of the head. "And you?"

She wondered if he had prepared breakfast--surely not? After all that happened yesterday . . . she truly doubted the Dane's cooking skills.

Of course, it was a constant fear of hers that the Dane did not have any skills beyond war and lovemaking. And admist these changing times . . .

Since when was I so concerned for the state of his wellbeing?

[Chicogal]

Denmark offered her a small smile - it wasn't truly happy, more polite than anything. He didn't really feel like smiling this morning, forcing such expressions onto his face. It made the corners of his mouth twitch, his eyes widen unnaturally. Who could actually enjoy lying, though? It made him uncomfortable; even the act of pretending crippled something inside him.

How he wished that he could be honest with someone, tell them how he actually felt inside. The alcohol addiction that was slowly killing him. The ever present ache in his head. The extent to which he actually craved something real, with somebody who would not wither away in the blink of an eye.

"I am hungry, yes," he replied, slender fingers pushing his blonde hair back from his forehead again. His bright blue eyes returned to her, and he inclined his head down the hallway. "Come along. I will cook us something delicious, my lady."

He had grown slightly formal, sadness lacing his eyes but not his voice or the mask he slid over his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. For all that most people would know, he was quite content. Turning, he began to walk down the hallway, shadow he cast upon the wall even taller than he.

[Lady_Lunevis]

Norway lowered her head as Denmark's features once again stretched into a smile--why? Why was he always smiling, smiling, always happy?

It's as if walls separate us beyond understanding.

She can't understand why he always seems so happy. It seems . . . empty.

As if there was nothing there to start, nothing to build with.

How is it that he has somehow managed to simultaneously alienate her beyond understanding, all while standing near enough for her throat to choke up and her words to die before they reach the surface?

She wants to ask what's wrong, but that's the thing--

There's nothing wrong.

It's in her head, a myriad of entwining thoughts and cravings for past times, nostalgia making them seem so much better than her present, empty life.

She misses being young, the country-equivalent of a child.

"Very well," she replied stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as he dipped his head towards the hallway, inviting them to start walking. "I'm sure whatever you craft will be delicious, my lord." Something twinged in the back of her mind at being called 'lady' instead of 'Norway', and she retaliated with a remark even more distant than the one he had given her. It was a game of lies, and she would not lose.

Not when it seemed he was so much more skillful, so much happier. Unfair spite filled her at the thought, and she slid her arm through his as in the required style of a gentleman escorting a lady. Brushing a strand of loose, pale-blonde hair from her face, Norway glanced up briefly and--

His eyes.

There's a certain sadness to them that takes her back, so much that she almost stumbles in her footsteps. Why . . . ?

She wants to ask what's wrong, but even as she opens her mouth she can't quite find the words to do so.

[Chicogal]

A shiver trailed down Denmark's spine at her gentle touch. Perhaps, in some way, he craved it.

He wanted her, all of her, all over him. But it was not to be. And he was to be a gentleman, he supposed, if they referred to each other as lord and lady. He simply glanced across to her before going back to their winding path, clearing his throat.

Pale rays of winter sunlight peeked out of their cloudy robes, shone across the faded rugs that now sat haphazardly across the floors. The paintings on the walls were dusty - some more than others. His castle was furnished grandly, but it was not kept grandly. It was starting to show. Perhaps it was mirroring something in a similar situation.

The tall blonde slowly navigated them, being careful not to pull or push the delicate woman by his side.

Norway looked delicate, with her slender build, her cobalt blue eyes, her fine pale blonde hair - but she was fierce. Not in the manner of shouting, but in... others.

There was a fire within her that had never been quenched by anyone or anything. Perhaps there was a troll or something within her - a genuine look of amusement crossed his thin lips for a moment - she was far from one of those evil creatures...

"It must be warm here, in comparison to your land," he commented, not daring to look at her.

Denmark knew that longing would throb in his chest if he did so.

"I remember that there are some places in your land that do not see the sun during winter. I cannot imagine the darkness some of your people endure. They are strong."

Perhaps some of that strength and darkness is mirrored in you.

Edited August 15, 2015 by Chicogal

[Lady_Lunevis]

Norway walked in tune with Denmark, regarding his castle as they traveled on in silence, an awkward quiet stretching before them with every new step onto the worn down rugs beneath their feet. Her slippers--for she long traded heavy iron boots for delicate, silk-laid slippers--sank into the plush carpets, and Norway noticed with a certain distant interest that, though the carpets were very grand and well-made indeed, they were worn down with strings stretching in all directions at the rungs, dust covering the corners. Dark blue eyes scanned around discreetly, and Norway took in the portraits that dotted the walls, all of various men sitting with stern expressions. The hallway felt cold from such a display, and Norway, filled with a sudden wonder, squinted at the edges of the frames, the antique displays splattered through the halls. Dust, dust everywhere as far as the eye could see, and her inner voice--for every woman must know how to clean and cook and serve their husbands, for that was the law and what all considered of the utmost importance--told her that the castle was not grandly cared for.

Years ago, she would not have cared. Perhaps today, she does not care.

But . . .

She knew Denmark liked to brag. She was fully aware that he always intended to have the best of everything--the best clothes, the crafted weapons, the most women.

The other countries.

So why was his house in such a state of disarray? Certainly the most powerful country in the world could afford a housekeeper, or ten?

Denmark guided with a gentleness that set the pale blonde at unease--she was so used to his rough, but not unkind ways, his cheerful happiness, the way his hands feel--

She remembers the night they won a battle, how he had been so elastic he'd lifted her up and spun her around, his laughter echoing in her ears, his shining blue eyes staring into hers.

How she had wanted to kiss him silly that moment, with his ears flushed bright red from the cold and her cheeks pink from something else.

She smiles softly to herself, the memory stirring up kinder times.

"It must be warm here, in comparison to your land," Denmark suddenly said, but he did not look at her. The action sent a certain pain into her heart, and she hesitated.

"I remember that there are some places in your land that do not see the sun during winter. I cannot imagine the darkness some of your people endure. They are strong."

Norway blinked--what?

They are strong.

Denmark's words echo in her mind, and she tightens her grip around his arm without noticing.

"T-thank you," she says, then pauses. "Denmark."

A faint silence stretched between them before she spoke again.

"It is," she agreed, "during this time, we usually would have been bundled in furs, and certainly not walking outside. But . . . it is not so bad, to be able to see the sky." A pause, and Norway looks at the horizon where the sun is beginning to rise.

"The eclipse is beautiful," she says softly. "It summons the creatures of the night, awakens magic. Truly, a night around a warm fire is what my people strive to obtain. The dark . . . it brings with it many merits." Suddenly realising she had been rambling on, her mind miles away, Norway hesitated, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

Bright blue eyes and strong arms.

He's . . . so happy.

I want to . . . share that happiness.

"I would like if you saw it sometime," she said placidly, not quite an invitation but not nearly small enough to be considered a suggestion, either. "Words do not do it justice, though our winters are very cold."

[Chicogal]

Although she might not have noticed her own action, Denmark certainly did. The grip on his arm was tight, and he... liked it. It felt as if she was scared, and he was her protector. It made him feel wanted and strong. Subconsciously, he straightened a little, shoulders back and chest out like a true gentleman of the time. And this time, when she spoke, he turned his head downwards to look at her properly with sea-blue eyes and a hint of a thin-lipped smile.

The smile grew to a hint of a grin as she described the eclipse, her people. For a moment, she was in another world, far away from the reality of her being a permanent guest in his house. Her passion was palpable. And maybe he... loved it? Was it the passion or the person that he loved? The Dane was not so sure.

"I should love to see such beauty," he admitted. For a moment, for the first time, he hesitated with his lame compliment. Would she think him stupid for saying such things? Alas, he abandoned his reservations a moment later - he was not a hesitant man, and she should not make him so.

"But not as beautiful as the sight I see now," he delivered, looking her in the eye with a cheeky eyebrow raised. He winked, almost chuckling with his grin as he steered them around a corner.